Hello Love

by McQuestion, Karen

  “I wouldn’t really call them relationship problems,” she said in disgust, like she didn’t want to talk about it, but clearly she did because she kept going. “More like finding out a man’s true colors. Talk about someone turning out to be not as advertised.” Odd, the way she worded things, as if they’d just been talking about people turning out to be not as advertised when that wasn’t the case at all. “Marco is his name. Was his name. Ancient history, or at least he will be when I find my own place.” As it turned out, they were still living together, but it was completely platonic, she’d hurriedly told him. Dan wondered if Aunt Doreen was aware of this. Probably not, he decided. She wouldn’t have approved.

  The woman said that this boyfriend, the horrible Marco, had told her that she was the kind of woman who could drive a man to drink. “Can you imagine that?” she said, her eyes widening. “What a mean thing to say. And I’m telling you that this came out of nowhere. I kept the house super perfect, cooked his meals, did his laundry, and everything else.” She winked at the “everything else.” “There was no reason for him to turn on me like he did. My sister said she thinks he’s a sociopath and I Googled it and guess what?” Before Dan could answer, she answered her own question. “I read the description of a sociopath and he fits it perfectly.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Charming, manipulative, lack of empathy for other people, inability to truly love. I’m telling you, I dodged a bullet with that one.”

  “Sounds like it,” Dan said.

  “So if you know someone with a place to rent, I’m definitely in the market. It wouldn’t have to be a whole apartment at this point. Just a room would be okay. I really have to get out of there.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know of anything offhand. If something comes up, I’ll have Doreen let you know.”

  After that he kept the conversation on an even keel, talking about his work in between bites. The food kept her somewhat occupied, but she still managed to interrupt him a few times. She’d never heard of a microbrewery. “Let me guess! It’s a teeny, tiny brewery!” she said, throwing her head back and laughing like it was hilarious. Dan had never seen anyone so entertained by their own words. “I would love working at a place where I could drink beer all day,” she said, making a show of tipping an imaginary bottle to her mouth. “Way cool.”

  “A lot of people think that we get to drink beer all day,” he said, “but that’s not how it really works. We wouldn’t get anything done if we were drinking on the job.” Truthfully they were entitled to one glass a week. Many of the guys saved it for lunchtime on Friday. Besides the allotted amount, Dan occasionally did some taste testing when they were developing a new beer or ale. It wasn’t his area, but sometimes they asked his opinion. But he almost never mentioned that perk of the job.

  She winked. “But I bet you can kick one back when no one’s looking, right? Especially being the boss and all.”

  That was exactly why he never mentioned it. Everyone assumed his job was a forty-hour-a-week kegger, and it just wasn’t true. “I could, but I don’t.”

  “Aw, come on, I won’t tell anyone! Fess up. Every once in a while when you’re having a bad day, it has to be a temptation, am I right?” She reached over and patted his wrist in a familiar way.

  “Actually, no . . .” He paused, aware of a woman who’d stopped at their table. He glanced up to see the voluptuous redhead who’d arrived at the restaurant just after him. Her friend, the familiar-looking brunette, kept going, her boots clicking their way toward the front door.

  The redhead smacked her palm against the table and leaned toward his eating companion. “Hello there, Desiree.”

  Oh, Desiree! Mystery solved. Dan now had a name to use when he let her down gently at the end of this lunch.

  Desiree said, “Hi?”

  “Are you enjoying your lunch date?”

  Desiree glanced from Dan to the red-haired woman, clearly confused, then down at her nearly empty plate. “Yeah everything was good, thanks.”

  Dan said, “It’s not a date.” But before he could say anything else, the woman strode away, flipping her knit scarf over her shoulder. “Do you know her?” he asked, watching until she disappeared around the corner.

  Desiree shrugged. “She looked sort of familiar. Maybe she’s the manager here?”

  Dan shook his head. “She’s not the manager. She was eating lunch right over there the whole time we’ve been here. Plus, she knew your name.”

  “Oh yeah.” Desiree looked uninterested. “I get that a lot. I don’t want to sound conceited, but people always remember me, but I don’t always remember them.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I mean, I remember the important people. I’ll certainly remember you, don’t worry about that.”

  Again she grasped his wrist, but this was one time too many for him. He felt his skin crawl at the intimacy of the gesture, and made a sudden decision. It was okay to be a little bit rude, just this once. “I hate to do this,” he said, pulling out his wallet and peeling off a couple of twenties, which he left in the middle of the table, “but I can’t stay any longer. I really have to go, so I’ll leave this here. If you’d take care of the bill, I’d really appreciate it. It was nice meeting you, Desiree.” He returned the wallet to his back pocket and got out the keys to his truck.

  She watched, confused, as he slid out of the booth. “Well, maybe next time we can—”

  “I’m sorry, but there won’t be a next time. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Leaving the restaurant, Dan felt his mood lift and as the cold outdoor air hit his face, it struck him as invigorating. The sun was high in the sky now too, the light a welcome sight after sitting for so long in the dim restaurant. During the whole meal he’d dreaded coming up with an excuse when all it took was telling her that there wouldn’t be a next time. Huh. Who knew how easy it could be? He felt the words still lingering on his tongue. Sorry, but there won’t be a next time. Simple, direct, nothing to argue about. He wasn’t trying to hurt her feelings, but there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable. And after all, he’d promised he’d have lunch with her and he’d fulfilled that obligation.

  EIGHTEEN

  Andrea waited to meet up with Jade in the restaurant parking lot. “So?” Andrea asked, when she saw her friend come out with a big smile on her face. “What did you say to her?”

  Jade grinned and reenacted it, bending at the waist to rest her hand on an imaginary table. “I said ‘Hellllooo, Desireee. Are you enjoying your lunch date?’” She shook her head. “When I looked down I could totally see her black lace bra down the front of her shirt. So sleazy. She’s like her own peep show.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She’s such a ditz. I don’t think she recognized me at all. She’s all, ‘My lunch was good, thanks,’ like I was the waitress or something. The guy, though, he was quick to jump in and say it wasn’t a date.”

  Good for him not wanting to be associated with Desiree, Andrea thought. At least there was one man in the world with some common sense. “And that was it?”

  “Pretty much. I just walked away after that. I can’t believe she didn’t remember me from that day I helped move your stuff out of the house.” Jade frowned. “Everyone remembers me. I mean, everyone. It’s the red hair.” She twirled a lock around her finger. “I’m distinctive.”

  “Yes, you are distinctive.” Andrea grinned.

  “Anyway, I’ve got to run. I’ll stop by after work one night to see your new love interest,” Jade said, giving her a hug before climbing into her car. “See you later, you crazy dog stealer,” she called out, driving away.

  Andrea waved and then fished her keys out of her purse. A slight gust of snow drifted down, almost in slow motion, and she took a deep breath of the bracing air. She wondered what Desiree would have done if she had been the one to stop at the table. What if she had very snarkily asked how Marco was doing? A barrage of scenario
s ran through her head, things she could say to embarrass Desiree or messages she could send back to Marco, but none of it was appealing. She just didn’t care. If she were going to say anything to the blonde home wrecker, it would be that she was welcome to Marco, that in the long run she’d done Andrea a favor. But even that seemed too much. Just let them live their lives and she’d live hers.

  Just as Andrea was about to get into her car, the restaurant door burst open and Desiree’s date (the one who had told Jade it wasn’t a date) sprinted out like a man fleeing the scene of a crime. He had a wicked grin on his face as he came her way. Presumably headed to his getaway car.

  Andrea had never been one to chat up strangers, especially strange men, but as he got closer something made her call out, “You seem to be in a hurry.”

  He clearly had been lost in thought and hadn’t noticed her standing next to her car, because her comment startled him into slowing. He ran a hand over his wavy brown hair, and gave her a smile. “Not in a hurry. Just heading home.”

  “The way you rushed out, I thought maybe you’d robbed the place,” she said, her car keys looped around her fingers. “Or maybe you were skipping out on your date?”

  “Oh, that wasn’t a date. Believe me, not a date.” He shot a glance back at the restaurant and then said, almost apologetically, “That was a . . . well, I don’t know what it was. Just lunch, I guess.”

  “Just lunch,” Andrea said and then flinched at her own stupidity. She couldn’t come up with anything better to say than that? He had stopped now, five feet away, and he was still looking at her with a smile. He was really cute, she thought. Distinguished, but not in an old-guy way. Older than her, though. Maybe late thirties. Hard to judge, but certainly no older than forty. His navy jacket was open, casually left unzipped like he didn’t even feel the cold. The breeze kicked up and snow drifted around them like they were characters at a skating rink in a movie. “Well,” she said, “I guess I better go home and feed my dog.” Again, she flinched and inwardly groaned. Go home and feed my dog? She needed a better scriptwriter because that was the worst line ever. Jade would have had his name, address, and social security number by now, but that was Jade. She was outgoing, bold, unafraid. Andrea wanted to be all those things, but she never seemed able to summon it at the time.

  He nodded approvingly. “Okay. It was nice talking to you . . . ?”

  “Andrea.”

  Again, his head bobbed up and down, like her name met with his approval. “Andrea. Nice talking to you, Andrea. Maybe we’ll cross paths again sometime.”

  “Yes, maybe we will.” Andrea watched as he went over to a red truck, and she heard the beep as he unlocked the door. “That’s it?” she murmured to herself, disappointed. She took one daring step in his direction and blurted out, “Hey! I don’t think I got your name.”

  “My name?” He paused, his hand on the open door. “It’s Dan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dan.” She raised her hand and gave him a fluttery wave.

  Again, he gave her that adorable little boy grin, like he was getting away with something. “Nice to meet you too, Andrea.” And then he got into his truck and started the engine.

  As Andrea saw the brake lights of the truck at the edge of the parking lot, all she could think was she should have kept the conversation going. It might have even led to her suggesting they get together sometime. Why had she held back? Women had been asking men out for ages now; it wasn’t a new concept. Clearly, there’d been some attraction there and she could have handled it in a smart way, not disclosing her last name or where she lived. It would have been easy to exchange cell phone numbers, or make plans to meet at this same restaurant on another day. But she knew what it was. Besides the fact he was a complete stranger, the fear of rejection had held her back. And he’d been there with Desiree. It seemed like he didn’t want to be with Desiree, but still he somehow had wound up sitting opposite her at a restaurant and that alone reflected poorly on his character.

  She sighed. Well, it didn’t make a difference either way. She would probably never see him again, and besides, Anni waited for her at home.

  NINETEEN

  The next Sunday found Dan sitting in the back row of the church by himself. He hadn’t been inside the building in over a year, and with Lindsay scheduled to work that morning, he was flying solo. Back when they came as a family, their usual spot was toward the front on the right-hand side. Often Aunt Doreen or one of the other relatives would join them, and most often they’d go to brunch afterward. Nothing formal, just the place on the lake that did made-to-order omelets.

  He purposely avoided sitting with Doreen, who he saw was already seated up front, but he knew if they met up on the way out, he’d have a thing or two to say to her. Namely: What had she been thinking matching him up with that nightmare Desiree? He shook his head at the memory of the tacky blonde woman blathering endlessly about herself while fussing with her hair and earrings. Could there be a woman more different than Christine?

  He’d thought that being here without his wife would feel like a betrayal, but instead it was fine. Just lonely, seeing all the couples and families troop in, greeting others as they proceeded to their seats. The only other singles seemed to be gray-haired ladies with thick glasses, clutching large handbags to their side.

  The service began and he went along with the singing and praying and everything else, but it felt like rote. None of it came from the heart, the way it had in the past. His faith, once shiny and solid, was dinged up and rusty. Attending church, and everything that came with it, was part of his old life. Back when things made sense and God didn’t strike down a healthy woman—a wife, a mother—long before her time, taking her away from everyone who loved her. There was no reason for her suffering and death, and, to add insult to injury, Anni was gone, stolen by some drunken cretins looking for sadistic fun. While everyone else recited a prayer, Dan made a mental bargain. God, he prayed, if Anni is returned to us, unharmed, I’ll give you another shot. Well, what were the chances of that happening? Sadly, it was slim to none. And really, if bargaining had worked, he’d have Christine with him now. Best to just forget about it.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have come to church today. Instead of being a balm for his soul, the service had become an irritant to his inner peace. When the hour was over, he made his way through the crowd, hat in hand.

  Doreen spotted him in the lobby and called his name, then worked her way to where he stood. “Dan.” She threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you came.” The top of her head only came up to his armpit, but still her hug was firm.

  “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

  “Actually, I believe you said you’d think about it. Aren’t you glad you came?”

  “Not really,” he said. “In fact, I’ve got a bone to pick with you. That woman you set me up with? Sheesh. An hour with her—pure torture.”

  “That bad?” Doreen said, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. “Ah, I was afraid that might be the case.”

  “What?” Dan gave her his narrowed-eye gaze, the one he used on Lindsay when she stayed out past curfew. “You were afraid that might be the case? You knowingly put me in the line of fire?”

  “Oh, it couldn’t have been as bad as all that,” Doreen said soothingly. “Come to brunch with me and we can talk.”

  “I’m not all that sure I want to talk to you.” He tried to keep up the pretense of being miffed, but a smile broke through.

  “Come out with me and I’ll explain my thinking,” she said. When he didn’t respond right away, she added, “Come on! It’ll be fun. With any luck, some of my book club ladies might see us and I can get the gals talking about my mystery man.”

  An hour later he and Doreen sat at a table overlooking the lake, their omelets in front of them, mimosas to the right of their plates. Doreen was fond of mimosas, always ordering them at half strength and then claiming they wer
e still too strong, but drinking them anyway—then ordering another one.

  “So,” Dan said. “Making me meet this woman for lunch was, what? A practical joke? Your idea of fun?”

  “Oh no, dear, I would never do that to you,” Doreen said, patting his hand in a motherly way. “Was it really that dreadful?”

  “It was really that dreadful.”

  “There was nothing good that came of it?”

  Dan thought about the fifteen seconds in the parking lot, the brief exchange with the woman in the camel-colored coat. Andrea. The effect she’d had on him was puzzling. The attraction wasn’t even romantic or sexual, either, just the feeling that he knew her somehow. He liked her voice. Even her smile seemed familiar. And she had a dog that she had to go home and feed. A dog was about as good of a recommendation as one could get. He met Doreen’s eyes and realized she still needed an answer. “Having to talk to Desiree was excruciating. I had no idea time could go so slowly.”

  Doreen said, “I knew you wouldn’t end up together, but, you know, I think you both needed this. And honestly, Dan, how painful could it have been? It was just one lunch. Desiree was really in a bad place what with that schmuck breaking her heart, and you, well, you’ve been in that sad rut you’ve dug for yourself for so long now. Don’t get me wrong.” She held up a hand to stop his objection. “I’ve been there myself. When Bruno died, I didn’t feel like doing anything. Didn’t even feel like getting out of bed. So I get it. Really, I do. But at some point, a person just needs to move forward, and for me it happened gradually. One step at a time. You do one small thing and you get through it so you know you can do that and more too. One small thing.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “But you have to do that one small thing and I didn’t see it happening for you, so I set up the dominoes and gave it a push. At least you have to admit that Desiree is a very attractive woman.”